


Canvas

by massuneko



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/massuneko/pseuds/massuneko
Summary: They will always be each other's most beautiful canvas.





	1. Sketch

They had been drunk when they arrived at Taekwoon’s place, stumbling and tripping over each other, giggling nonstop as they tried to drag themselves to the nearest couch. Soon enough, their lips were colliding, wet noises and muffled moans filling the air. The temperature in that room skyrocketed and they hastily peeled off the restricting clothes. Still, for some reasons, their lust and desire simmered down as soon as Wonshik laid Taekwoon down on the couch. He was looking down at the red-haired man with unconcealed adoration, as if he was the most precious being in the whole universe. That had Taekwoon’s breath slowing down, although the pounding in his chest didn’t change.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” murmured Wonshik, while still gently caressing the exposed pale skin.

“You have me naked on my own couch. What else do you want?” asked Taekwoon, holding his gaze with Wonshik. The younger man smiled, looking so tender and yet so broken inside.

“I don’t know. Savor the moment, maybe?” replied Wonshik half-jokingly. Taekwoon snorted and hit his chest lightly.

Wonshik actually stepped back, letting Taekwoon to stare at the sculpted abs Wonshik was always proud of. There was no reason for a painter like him to keep such toned body, and yet there he was, looking like he was carved into perfection by the gods themselves.

“Wonshik, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,” murmured Taekwoon as he stretched on the couch. Wonshik quirked an eyebrow, confused.

“I don’t know any French girl,” replied Wonshik. Taekwoon snorted at his foolishness.

“It’s a quote from _‘Titanic’_ , you silly,” chuckled Taekwoon. He pushed himself to sit up, snatching Wonshik’s painfully colorful suit from the floor and draped it on his shoulder. With a sultry gaze and voice, he added, “But I don’t mind you drawing me like this.”

Wonshik was chuckling at his suggestion, turning away while shaking his head. Taekwoon had already expected to be rejected, but his eyes lit up when Wonshik returned with a sketchbook and the pouch holding his pencils and charcoals. Apparently, he still remembered where Taekwoon kept his stuffs despite hadn’t been dropping by for a very long time.

“I’m still drunk, so I’m not taking any protest about how ugly it’ll look,” warned Wonshik as he pulled a chair closer. Taekwoon was grinning widely, his pearly teeth showing up as his eyes curved into crescents.

“Okay, I promise I won’t protest,” replied Taekwoon. He then shifted on the couch, getting on a comfortable position as he gazed at Wonshik. The way his eyes stared at him with full concentration made him shivered, like he was a meal ready to be served, and Wonshik was the one who would devour him whole.

But in the end he couldn’t keep his consciousness for too long. The alcohol and the exhaustion pulled him into slumber so very easily. And when he woke up again, he was lying on his own bed, fully clothed in sweatpants and T-shirt. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like death, but he forced himself to get up and grab some morning coffee.

He tried to remember how he got home from the bar, how he even had enough concentration to change his clothes and went to the bed instead of passing out on the floor just as he had always been.

Just as he started the coffee machine and let the scent to fill his lungs, he vaguely remembered going home with someone. Was he having yet another one night stand? He didn’t feel sore, so he doubted it. Was he going home with someone he knew? He didn’t know. He couldn’t exactly remember anything.

He poured the black coffee to his favorite mug and brought it to the couch as he gave up trying to remember what happened last night. But when his eyes fell on the sketchbook lying on his coffee table, his heart jumped to his throat.

That thing wasn’t supposed to be there.

It was supposed to be stored away, locked forever, buried down as deep as his shattered dream when that accident ripped away his ability to draw ever again.

With shaky hands, he put down the mug and took the sketchbook, opening it carefully. The first few pages were his own sketches, the ones he made before the accident. But as he continued to flip the pages, he found several new ones, the sketches he was sure not to be his own.

Those were the sketches of his figure, lying comfortably on the couch, fully naked save for the overly ornate suit jacket draping on his shoulders. He shivered as he softly traced the lines, recognizing the stroke and the pattern of the jacket.

_“We shouldn’t be doing this…”_

The ghost of his voice echoed in Taekwoon’s ears, sucking the energy out of him. How foolish he was to forget. Of course it was Wonshik. Of course it was his ex-boyfriend, whom he hadn’t met for months, whose party he went to with the full awareness that it was his _bachelor party_.

They used to love each other, laughing freely as they sketched each other, painting beautiful colors on the canvas or each other’s skin. But then the accident happened and Taekwoon grew bitter, hateful, and it broke both of them to the point it was unmendable. At one point, they had come to an agreement that they no longer love each other, and they separated ways ever since. And yet there Taekwoon was—longing for Wonshik, falling for him all over again, while knowing that he had turned to the other side and never looking back again.

He turned the last page of the sketch and found a message written at the corner of the page. As he read it, he could no longer hold back his tears.

_“You will always be my most beautiful canvas.”_


	2. Touch

Wonshik was sure that he didn’t give any invitation to Taekwoon, but he was there anyway. He was still stunningly beautiful, with his sharp yet soft features, alluring yet adorable at the same time.

It had been months— _years_ , even—since their messy breakup. He hadn’t met him, hadn’t heard anything from him ever since, until for some unknown reasons Taekwoon was showing up in his bachelor party a few nights prior.

And there he was, once again, unpredictably, on his wedding day.

Just like in his bachelor party, he pretended not to see him. Just a single look towards his direction brought so much memories, so much pain… and so much affection he knew he should have buried away.

It had been years.

They had made an agreement.

But just like the way he kept on wearing their paired diamond bracelet, the same way he let himself being dragged to Taekwoon’s old apartment while being totally intoxicated, he just couldn’t stop his heart from longing.

That’s why he finally surrendered to his inner voice, to his one and only weakness, and looked up to find Taekwoon among the crowd. It was an easy task, not because his bright red hair stuck out like a sore thumb among the blacks and browns, but because Wonshik knew that they would always find each other in any situation. And there he was, staring back at Wonshik, with the same longing stare he gave when they met at the bar.

Then, as if answering to his unspoken call, Taekwoon walked closer.

“Congratulation for your wedding,” said Taekwoon softly, both to Wonshik and his bride. Wonshik could see the slight pain behind his eyes, and a part of him wished that it was because Taekwoon was, no matter how selfish it was, still in love with him.

And Wonshik didn’t realize that he wasn’t replying until he heard his bride thanking Taekwoon with slight confusion. Of course, she didn’t know Taekwoon. Never once Wonshik brought Taekwoon into conversation, not even when he was talking about his past, as if Taekwoon was never there to begin with. And that’s because Taekwoon was there, always there, haunting his mind and staining his memories forever. When they agreed that it was over for them, he wanted to erase every trace of Taekwoon he had left.

Yet there he was, right in front of his eyes, with the same pull he always had.

“Thank you for coming.” That was all Wonshik could muster without breaking down. A soft smile was gracing Taekwoon’s lips, his soft pink lips that tasted like honey and poison.

One second, Wonshik was staring at those lips. Another second, Taekwoon’s arms were around him, pulling him close, punching out every breath from his lungs. Those soft lips were grazing slightly against his cheek, lighting his skin on fire, and it was nothing compared to the words he whispered later.

“You will always be my most beautiful canvas.”

It was his own words, the one he wrote as he was sobering up that night. And in that moment, Wonshik wondered if Taekwoon remembered, if Taekwoon realized just how easy they fell back to the old routine, to the times when they were happy together, when they were so drunk they forgot about the years they spent away from each other.

But just like that night, the magic was gone instantly. Taekwoon stepped back with a pained smile, a small confirmation that he, too, was still in love with Wonshik. He patted Wonshik’s chest softly, mouthing _‘take care’_ before he finally turned away. His hand lingered a second longer, just enough for the light to reflect the glimmering diamonds circling his wrist.

It was Wonshik who stopped him from going, gripping his hand strongly, letting his own bracelet to slip out from behind his sleeve and collided with Taekwoon’s. He heard his soft gasp. He saw the sight that traveled from their joined hands up to his face, and the unconcealed surprise that glazed his eyes.

Still, just like before, he let go of that hand.

He let go of their memories, of their happiness and sadness, of every last bit of his heart that still belonged to Taekwoon.

He let go of their love.

“Goodbye, my dearest,” he whispered softly.

It was the same word he whispered when he left, when he closed that door while knowing that Taekwoon was still crying inside. At that time, his tears had dried up, after so many days and nights crying his heart out, trying to numb the pain that had grown between them.

But this time, he let the tears to flow freely, blurring his sight as his face contorted in sorrow. He ducked his head, covering his eyes with his free hand as he tried to compose himself.

“Sorry. I need… I need to go for a while,” he said weakly to his bride, not even waiting for her reply before rushing to the restroom. He felt pathetic, letting all those emotions consuming him again. No matter what agreement they had, no matter how he told himself to forget, he still couldn’t deny that Taekwoon was someone that could never be replaced.

The restroom’s door was closed and he didn’t even bother to check whether it’s locked or not, so he jumped a little as it clicked and swung open. But what surprised him more was the person emerging from behind the door, eyes red and puffy, with an expression that mirrored his own.

They were staring at each other for a second. And the next thing they knew, they’re both inside that small space, door locked, with chests pressed against each other.

It was his wedding day. Wonshik’s wedding day. Wonshik’s wedding with someone else. Yet he felt so much more in love, so much more _whole_ , as he was kissing Taekwoon like this. It was the same fire, the same passion filling his chest after leaving it hollow for so many years. And he wondered how we could live with that, without Taekwoon’s smooth skin and his soft lips, without his angelic voice whispering his name just so, without the warmth that engulfed him whole.

It was his wedding day, and yet his golden band just slipped off from his finger and rolled away like it was never meant for him. Their bracelets collided with each other as they entwined their fingers, holding each other so firmly like they would never let go.

When they were finally down from their high, Wonshik took his time to observe the beautiful man in front of him. Reds were blooming on his neck, shoulders, and chest. Translucent white was painting his tummy. Pink was still spreading across his cheeks and down to his neck and chest. He was beautiful.

Taekwoon was still his most beautiful canvas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't exactly lie when I said I don't think I'll continue this fic, but you know, sometimes inspiration just hit you. Also, I'm not sure if there will be any continuation or whatsoever after this.


End file.
